


Santa Baby

by ebenflo



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, Connor Deserves Happiness, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Office Party, Oneshot, Santa Kink, Virgin Connor (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21714022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebenflo/pseuds/ebenflo
Summary: Hank loses a bet and ends up being the office party Santa. Innocent little Connor just wants to sit on Santa's lap...
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67





	Santa Baby

There are a few irrefutable facts about Hank Anderson. One, he’s a gambler. Two, he hates to lose. Three, he’s a man of his word. And four, and this is the one he’s sworn to take to his grave: he’s hopelessly, irredeemably in love with his partner, who just happens to be a robot. Android. Whatever.

Which is why the predicament Hank finds himself in is bad. Terrible. Jesus Fuck - the very worst. The red suit is starchy and itches, and it bunches up around his meaty thighs in a way that is definitely not wholesome. The glasses on his nose are frankly fucking ridiculous. Let’s not even talk about the hat.

He can sense rather than hear Gavin Reed snickering from across the room and his instincts are correct. Reed is in the corner with Nines, his constant shadow, and he’s laughing at Hank. Hank tries to level him with his best nuclear-grade glare down but it’s largely ineffective when one of Fowler’s grandkids is stepping on his shiny black boots and another is trying to give him their Christmas list.

Fuck. All the booze in the world had not prepared Hank to lose the office bet and end up as their token Santa Claus. There is not a single festive bone in Hank’s body, except maybe the one in his pants, which gives a twitch of interest when a certain twink of an android sashays into the room like he fucking owns it. Is that…glitter in his hair? Hank ogles him shamelessly. He’s done something to make the tip of his nose all bright and shiny, like a fucking baby reindeer. And who gave him the right to wear brown leather suspenders over his shirt? It’s giving Hank very, very bad thoughts about other leather items he’d like to utilise on Connor…the delicious snap of a crop on the smooth, creamy expanse of that...

He’s distracted by these thoughts when suddenly he finds himself with a lap full of Connor, who smells like Hank’s cologne and sugar cookies.

“Hello Santa, my name is Connor!" 

“Wh-what are you doing? Connor!” Hank snaps, trying to disguise his arousal with anger. His cheeks are flushed with more than the after effects of the whisky he slammed back earlier.

It only makes Connor wriggle down more, hips swivelling in a way that cannot possibly be innocent. His hands grasp Hank’s generous thighs as if he means to stabilise himself, which is ridiculous because he’s an android and his coordination is better than most.

“Leiutenant? I understand it’s tradition for children between the ages of two to twelve to visit Santa Claus in this manner. They are to share with you their hopes and joys, and what they want for Christmas. As I am only three years old-“

“You’re not a child, Connor, fuck’s sake,” Hank grumbles, really wishing he’d had two shots instead of one before donning the suit. Maybe the alcohol would have dampened the enthusiastic response from his dick to Connor’s…writhing. As it is his dick is hard enough to cut through diamond.

“Oh!” Connor exclaims, his mouth forming a a little surprised ‘O’. He stills in Hank’s lap and frankly Hank wants to die. All the blood drains out of his face (well apparently it’s all gone to his dick anyway)

“Is that - Leiutenant Anderson - Hank! You have an erection!”

That’s it. Hank’s turning Connor in to be decommissioned. Or rebooted. Or whatever the fuck they do to androids to wipe their memories because honestly there is no way he’s living this down. Thank Jesus Christ there are no actual children nearby, they’ve all been distracted by the pudding being served over at the catering tables.

“No! Fucking Christ Connor I-“

“Ohhh I see. I'm sorry Hank, it’s my mistake,” Connor looks suitably abashed and Hank honestly can’t tell if it’s an act or not at this point. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Humans tend to be…discrete with these matters. Would you prefer I didn’t talk about your erection whilst in the precinct again?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t talk about my erection at all,” Hank manages to grind out. Oh come, sweet death, he silently beckons. Take me away now.

“Would you prefer I touch it then? You seem to be in fair bit of discomfort Leiutenant. Perhaps if I were to manually stimulate you, or use my mouth to-“

There’s a loud commotion as Connor is unceremoniously flung off Hank’s lap, and the bigger man stalks out of the room followed by a cacophony of scandalised whispers. 

Nines gasps and rushes over to help Connor up.

“Connor! Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Connor mumbles, thinking of the way Hank's erect member pressed insistently between Connor’s cheeks. Connor blushes blue and looks towards the open door through which Hank fled.

Connor’s sure he knows what he wants for Christmas. Now if only he could find a way to make Hank understand.


End file.
